


More Hurt than Help

by CherryBlossomLesbian



Series: Prompt Fills [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Medication, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Prompt Fill, Seizures, throwing away medication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27639716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBlossomLesbian/pseuds/CherryBlossomLesbian
Summary: Last night, he apparently had experienced what Sam described as a 'atonic seizure'. He could really remember anything within the time period it occurred in, only remembering before and right after, with Steve, Natasha and Sam all crowded around him as his brain caught up to reality and his body went back to normal, his muscles unlocking from their stiffness as he came out of the seizure.Steve had practically dragged him to the Tower in the morning, insisting he get checked out.Bucky wasn't scared of the tests, no, he was more scared at what they'd reveal. He was still trying to find himself, convince himself he's his own person and no longer HYDRA's puppet. He really couldn't deal with anything else right now.OR: Bucky is diagnosed with a seizure disorder, and Steve, Sam and Natasha just want to help. Unfortunately, their help just makes Bucky feel helpless and numb.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
Series: Prompt Fills [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978546
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	More Hurt than Help

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: after Hydra, they discover Bucky has a chronic condition (Seizures, fainting spells, whatever) the doctors are pretty worried and want him to go to regular check ups, do treatments, take a daily pill or injection or whatever, sleep and eat well, etc. Bucky on the other hand to be honest has enough issues with barely staying in the present to pay too much attention and hates medical procedures with good reason. However, his loved ones do worry, so they mother hen him to an inch of his life, which drives him insane even though he appreciates it. I prefer a Bucky/nat pair wit Steve as bff and Sam as the ever understanding counselor but dont care much who does the mother henning.

He anxiously swung his legs off the side of the exam table as they waited for the results of the tests to come back. 

Last night, he apparently had experienced what Sam described as a 'atonic seizure'. He couldn't really remember anything within the time period it occurred in, only remembering before and right after, with Steve, Natasha and Sam all crowded around him as his brain caught up to reality and his body went back to normal, his muscles unlocking from their stiffness as he came out of the seizure. 

Steve had practically dragged him to the Tower in the morning, insisting he get checked out. 

Bucky wasn't scared of the tests, no, he was more scared at what they'd reveal. He was still trying to find himself, convince himself he's his own person and no longer HYDRA's puppet. He really couldn't deal with anything else right now. 

"You wanna get food after this is over?" Steve asks suddenly, breaking the extended silence in the exam room. He was sitting on the plastic chair meant for visitors, tapping his foot in a methodical motion, showing he was just as nervous as Bucky. 

"It might help replenish your blood supply." Steve adds after Bucky doesn't respond. 

One of the tests was a blood test, but they didn't take much. The other tests were an MRI and an EEG. None of the tests were pleasant, but they were survivable. 

As a one time thing, at least. 

"I dunno." He responded once he realized it had been silent for far too long. "Maybe, after-" 

He was cut off when the door to the exam room opened, and the neurologist walked in. 

"Sergeant Barnes." The doctor greeted again, a cream colored folder underneath his left arm.

"There were no abnormalities in your blood test, so we know there's nothing infectious that caused the seizure. However, your MRI and EEG shows there is an abnormality within your brain that is most similar to those with epilepsy, especially post-traumatic epilepsy. While the seizure you experienced last night could be an isolated incident, with how erratic your brain waves are, even when you're stationary and not experiencing a seizure, it's unlikely." The neurologist reported, opening the folder and pulling out various sheets of paper with the results of the test, including a scan of his brain from the MRI and a graph of his brain waves. 

Steve was the first to speak after the news was delivered, before Bucky was able to fully process what was said. 

"So what can we do?" He asked, already moving onto the next step. 

"I'm going to prescribe medication. One pill, once a day, right when you wake up." The doctor's eyes settled on Bucky, talking directly to him rather than Steve. "And then there's the normal things. Balanced diet, eight hours of sleep a night, although I understand if that's not possible. Do you live with anybody, Sergeant Barnes?" 

It was if the doctor was checking on him, making sure he hadn't shut down from the news by forcing him to answer. 

"Steve." Bucky responded on instinct. "And two others." 

The neurologist nodded. "Alright, I'm going to send you home with three pamphlets on how to spot a seizure and what to do, for you to give to your roommates. I'll give you pamphlets on the medication I'm prescribing and a guide on how to cope with this diagnosis. I understand it can be hard mentally." 

Bucky felt numb. He still did when they walked out of the Tower, various pamphlets and test results in Bucky's arms, along with a small pill bottle. Steve was already looking over the pamphlet on what to do during a seizure as they began to walk the short distance from the Tower to the townhouse where they lived. 

When they arrived, Bucky dumped all he was holding onto the kitchen counter, went straight to his bedroom, shut the door, locked it, and collapsed onto his bed. 

~~~~~~~

He stayed in his room the whole day. 

When he woke up the next morning, he noticed a piece of paper on the floor near the door, as if it had been slid under. 

He picked it up and read what was definitely not Steve's handwriting say 'your meds are right outside the door, along with your pamphlets'. 

He folded the note up, opened the door just enough to grab the bottle and pull it through, then shut it again. 

He stared at the bottle for what must have been at least five minutes. It was a cool orange color, opaque enough to see the small, oval-shaped cream colored pills inside. They were the size of an M&M, would be easy to swallow. 

It would be easy, if he wanted to. 

Instead, he uncapped the bottle, poured one pill onto his palm, and threw it in the trash before resealing the bottle and setting it on his nightstand. 

Then he walked out of his room and into the kitchen, where Sam and Natasha were cooking breakfast on the stovetop. 

"Morning, Barnes." Sam greeted, flipping the bacon over on the pan. 

"You take your medication?" Steve asked once Sam's words made everybody else aware of his presence.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. 

And then he lied. 

"Yeah, I did." He replied as he opened the pantry to grab a simple breakfast instead of eating whatever healthy stuff the others wanted him to. 

"We got bacon, eggs and pancakes. You want a full platter?" Natasha offered as she loaded up a plate with a few strips of bacon, two pancakes, and a large pile of scrambled eggs. 

"I'm good." He reached up to the tallest shelf in the pantry- the granola bars used to be on the lower shelves, and Bucky can't help but think they were trying to be hid from him- and grabs a honey granola and oat bar. 

Natasha shrugs. "More for us, then." 

She says it like she's trying to guilt trip him. Like with him not eating the breakfast they prepared, he's personally a main driving force in the food waste crisis. 

He doesn't feel bad, though. He just walks back to his room and locks the door again. 

~~~~~~~

The day after that went largely the same as that. 

He woke up, threw a pill into the trash, told Steve he told it, denied the homemade meals his roommates made, and spent all day alone in his room. 

The only difference was the stopwatches. 

Somewhere between the previous day's breakfast and today's breakfast, small stopwatches had been laid out in every room of the townhouse. There was one in the kitchen, in the living room, even in each of their bedrooms. 

He'd read the pamphlet, especially the part where it said he had to time his seizures, to make sure they didn't last longer than five minutes for safety reasons. 

He just didn't think being in arms reach of a stopwatch at all times was necessary. 

Natasha had managed to corral Bucky out for dinner that night. Salad and Ravioli. 

Unsurprisingly, Bucky's plate was filled with more salad than ravioli. Sam was muttering something about the dangers of eating too many carbs while scooping the food onto the plates. 

Bucky also noticed Natasha, Steve, and Sam all had a little bit more ravioli on their plates than he did. It was a subtle thing, only a difference of a few noodles, but he was nothing if not observant. 

However, he still ate it all. Every stray piece of lettuce and spinach went down, as did the small portion of ravioli he'd been given. 

For being salad and pasta, it was one of the best things he's eaten in a while. Maybe it was the homemade aspect, the fact it wasn't produced in a factory. 

Just because he liked it didn't mean he was going to be coming to every meal. 

After dinner, he grabbed his jacket and decided to go out for a walk. He needs his head cleared, hopefully some fresh air can help. 

At first, he tried to erase all thoughts about the seizure and the diagnosis from his head. He wanted a completely clear mind, with nothing in it. He wanted everything to just go away and leave him alone for a bit. 

When he was a few blocks from the townhouse, that plan went out the window when the events of the past few days finally caught up to him, crashing into him at all once. 

He replayed every event that happened since he had that first seizure, that he can't remember for the life of him. He remembers darkness, and stiffness, but that's it. No images or sound or smells, just vague feelings. 

He replayed the doctor's appointment, the tests. The way the neurologist looked him in the eye, tried to speak to him and nobody else, and yet everything he'd said had gone straight over his head. 

He replayed the past two days, the denial of meals in favor of granola and protein bars, the disposal of the medication. The stopwatches, the lecture about carbs, the numbness that continues to incase him and make his emotions just out of reach, hard to express or know or even process. 

He's just a big mess, isn't he? 

His mental state is still crumbling, his brain has abnormalities, and he's pushing people away, people who want to help, and isolating himself. 

He turned around, back towards the townhouse, and prepared to face his problems, and his friends. 

~~~~~~~~

When he opened the front door and stepped back into the townhouse, toeing his boots off and hanging his jacket up, he didn't even realize that Natasha was lurking in the shadowed corners of the dining room, waiting for him to return so she could strike. 

He went to grab some water, thirsty after his walk, when Natasha's cleared her throat, making him aware of her existence in his space. 

He swallowed nervously when she approached him slowly, her right hand held tight in a fist. 

"So, you wanna tell me why I found two of your anticonvulsant pills in the trash?" She questioned, voice low and quiet, as they were schoolchildren whispering to one another about a crush. She unfurled her fist to reveal the two cream colored pills, her key evidence in her case against Bucky. 

Bucky put on his best clueless face, shrugged, and simply said "I don't know." 

"Don't lie to me, Barnes." Her voice managed to sound threatening and sweet at the same time, like a mother scolding her child. 

"Fine, okay. I threw them out. I don't need anything else to process right now. I don't need seizures." Bucky confessed, the truth giving way under Natasha's strict glare. He hated talking about his emotions, but he felt it was necessary right now. He felt like he needed to explain himself. 

She sighed and shook her head. Bucky half-believed she was going to go with the classic 'I'm not mad, just disappointed' line next. 

Instead, she said "That's why you take the pills. You won't have to deal with the seizures as much if you take the pills." She explained as if Bucky was a child that was learning how medication worked. 

"But I get where you're coming from." She continued. "Me and Sam have been pressuring you to eat with us, so you'll eat healthy. Steve has been pestering about the medication, Sam set up the stopwatches- I understand why that's a lot." 

Bucky was worrying his lip so much he feared the skin would break soon. "I...I just need some time." 

She nodded. "That's okay. What if we do this one step at a time? You take your medication tomorrow, we'll lay off on forcing food on you, we'll put the stopwatches away- just give you time to adjust and process." 

Bucky found himself nodding before he could actually think about it. If the constant mother hening stopped, he'd been willing to do anything. 

Even medication. 

Natasha smiled at him, patting his shoulder in an effort to comfort. "I'll let Steve and Sam know. And I'm not going to tell you to go to sleep so you get proper rest, because that would be breaking our agreement...but I will say it's 9pm." 

Bucky just rolled his eyes and headed into his bedroom. 

~~~~~~~

The next morning, he uncapped the medicine bottle, poured a pill onto his palm, and popped it into his mouth before he could decide against it. 

He washed it down with all the water he had left in his bottle on the nightstand. 

He joined the others for breakfast, making toast for himself while Sam, Natasha and Steve ate the pancake stack Natasha had made. 

There was no nagging. No questions or comments about Bucky's meds or his seizures. There were no stopwatches in sight. 

And finally, Bucky felt the numbness began to leave him, piece by piece at a time, as he truly felt like he regained control of his body. 

He had control, and he was doing this for him. 

Because he wanted to. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to get better. 

He wanted to be okay, and he thinks, now, he's on his way to that goal.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to submit a prompt for me to write, check out the notes of my prompt fills series this fic is in!
> 
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